The Beautiful Family
by Lady of Revenge
Summary: A little, twisted oneshot of the psychotic boy we know.


Yeah, I'm still continuing Don't Say A Word, but I just wanted to write something closely reminding horror… (after watching too much Silent Hill-videos and watching my friend play Fatal Frame…the scariest games ever…(no, I haven't played either. And I really don't want, I'm such a scaredy-cat.)

Just…something weird. There's really nothing to say, really.

* * *

He has always been such normal boy, they all say. The neighbours, the teachers.Although he always smiles like he knows something nobody else does. 

Such a nice, normal boy.

_Although he lives in that mansion. Yes, that one. That one with that past. That horrifying past._

That boy lives there, only a teenager, with his loving parents, with his loving little sister. Even though everyone fears the mansion, that great house with creaking doors and two windows with spider webs, everyone still says 'what a beautiful family they are.' Their names are not that important, not, because their home is the mansion with the bloody, gruesome past.

_Where did all the inhabitants go from before?_

Why, when every time some passer-by sees the boy with dark hair playing in the yard, why does his apathetic face have so many bruises, why do his eyes look so dark? Why does the little sister, that sweet little sister look so sad as she walks down the porch of the house?

Beautiful family, yes, but why does the mother cry every time she is on the garden, tending the blood-red flowers? _She sees names written on them, she sees long lost faces and cries in fear._

The father is quiet. Always. He never speaks, only nods, or shakes his dark hair. Never there is a change in his figure. Always the same, always. The boy fears his father, but never says a word. The little sister loves her father, but she never says anything either.

_The boy's left eye is black._

_His right eye is white._

A monster child, they sometimes say.

A normal, nice child, but a monster, always a monster. _His little sister doesn't understand. She is such a innocent creature, this world is not meant for her._

He is a hard worker at school, doesn't have friends – they _are scared – _but survives. He draws gruesome pictures of sorrowful creatures in the art class, makes the photos flow from inside of him with power. Figures of suffering people. _He says they are not people, but descendants of something so evil their little heads will never understand. _They say they like him, never admitting that it's fear, not admiration that keeps them from talking to him.

He doesn't need others, he says and turns his mismatched eyes away, not wanting to see them anymore.

Monster child.

His father hits him often. _The little sister cries when that happens._

'You did that again! Damn you, you cursed child, damn you!' 

He yells, and the boy cries. But when the father turns around, the boy grins and reveals his too white, too sharp teeth. _Some day I'm going to kill you, _his eyes say, but the boy never does anything. Still pretending to be the perfect little son for the perfect little family. The mother smiles at him, but cries when they turn around.

It is a dark night. The mother and the father sleep, like they sleep every night. The boy is awake and sits beside his window. _The little sister sleeps always beside him these nights._ He hears the creaking doors, hears the silent voices of the haunting ghosts.

There are ghosts. Ghosts looking for revenge, ghosts wanting to be freed. And ghosts that just cry, cry; cry all day, all eternity.

_The boy believes that his mother is one of them, because she always cries because of the faces and bloody names on the bloody roses._

_----- _

He likes stories that his mother reads to him and his little sister sometimes. She fears, but the boy laughs and enjoys. The little sister doesn't like them, but she tries not be scared. Always stories about ghosts, ghosts, and evil things lurking around. In this very mansion, at least.

The father hates those stories. He says that the ghosts aren't real, _they aren't real, you idiot, you hear me? _

_But when the boy finds his father hanged from the roof, he smiles and says:_

'_You see now, Daddy? They are real.'_

His face is all black and full of fear and suffering and pain and his hands are stuck in one position like he had tried to take off the strangling ropes. Yes, ropes, holding now his ripped arms up, his broken neck hanging.

_'You are now like the Christ, Daddy, do you see? What a pretty sight.' The boy says and giggles._

The Mother is sad. She is sad, like she is always. Ever and always and the boy hugs him only to bit her arm, making her scream.

She never believed in those ghost stories, she never did, as much as the boy wanted her to do.

_Blood is such a beautiful thing to exist, now, isn't it?_

The boy licks it and giggles, showing his teeth colored now in red. The mother screams and then there are arms, arms everywhere, touching her, grapping her, voices whispering, shouts, pained shouts of the people long lost.

And the boy holds her and says it's okay, although smiling with his red teeth.

_With a sickening crack, the Mother's neck is broken and her face twisted in pain._

_And the boy's eyes widen and then they are closed. Such pleasure. Such pleasure!_

"Big brother?" There's a voice and the boy turns around. His little sister stares at him with wide eyes, tears on her cheeks.

The boy smiles, his last, gentle smile and embraces his little sister.

_'Bye, bye, baby sister.'_

Her twisted body falls to the floor. The boy turns and licks his lips, madness revealing itself in his eyes. Such a beautiful thing. But it is no more. No more.

_And the ghosts of the past still scream, scream in their agony, kill everything on their way. They can't escape, no, but they try. Oh, how do they try…_

* * *

I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking. It wasn't even scary… --;; And… if anyone did guess, it was Raito and Sayu and their parents.

Bye bye.


End file.
